D4. Breakfast

When a person paints from the gut there is no such thing as style, we're not impressionists or expressionists or cartoonists or illustrators or fauvists or cubists or pubists, we just go! We study technique for years so we can forget it in the creative act. When we are children we learn the alphabet, form words, structure grammatically correct sentences, all of which we forget in adulthood when we are compelled to express a thought. Art is the original pictorial alphabet, colours are words, paint is grammar, composition the anecdote.

D3. Vampire Slayer.

I watched this dragon for an hour, mostly posing his wow against the jade lotus leaves, occasionally crisscrossing the ponds surface to snatch unsuspecting bloodsuckers trying their luck to spawn. I never met one this colour before. He possessed every hue attributable to rubies...I imagined he was pigmented by his prey, who in turn had fed on the blood of the countless. I salute this crimson Neak, he's the gunship of the garden.

Day 2. Gothic view from Skid Row

I've little to say today, I like pictures, a thousand words and all that.

Musings from Hap Hazard's Savant Atelier, Skid Row, Phnom Penh. Launch date 5-28-10.

The human form is the artists sustenance. It is the landscape, the still life, the self portrait, the heart and the soul of what we are. It challenges us like no other subject, aggravates us like no lover we ever had, delights us like no other pleasure. How we paint it mirrors the workings of our psyche.